by C. J. Archer
Matt's brow creased as he stared at his cousin. She blinked big eyes back at him. Well, if he wasn't going to confront her, I would.
"You do have an active imagination, Miss Glass," I said. "What an excellent story."
"You don't believe me?" she said.
"Why would we? You've hardly shown yourself to be trustworthy."
She cringed. "I'm not lying about this. Patience really did have an indiscretion, and Sheriff Payne does know about it. I don't know how, but he does. He seems to know an awful lot about our family."
"When he sets his mind to something, he gets what he wants," Matt said quietly. "It's what makes him so dangerous."
Hope handed the handkerchief back to Matt. When he went to take it, she clasped his hand in both of hers. "Please, Matt. You must believe me on this. I'm not lying."
He opened his mouth then closed it again. He gave a slight nod.
I almost stormed off, but I didn't dare leave him in her clutches. How could he believe shy, fearful Patience had a liaison? It was unfathomable.
"What do you expect Matt to do?" I said to Hope. "Hand over his watch to you so you can give it to the sheriff and save your sister's reputation?"
"No, Miss Steele, I only want Matt to understand why I did what I did today. I don't want anything from him. Not now." She let him go and flattened a hand to her stomach. "Pray for my sister, Miss Steele. She's going to need all the prayers she can get."
I watched her walk off, my hands on my hips. "The nerve of her! It's one thing to try to steal your watch, Matt, but it's quite another to say such awful things about her own sister."
"You'd better write to Patience as soon as we get home and warn her," he said.
"You believe her? Matt! I never expected you to be so gullible."
"I need to make sure." He indicated I should walk alongside him.
"But…why? What will you do if it is true? Not that I think it is, mind."
"I don't know. I'm not sure there's anything that can be done. If Payne wants to ruin a member of my family, I can't stop him. I don't even know where to find him."
I clutched my book to my chest and bent my head into the breeze. "I don't believe for a second that Patience did anything wrong, but I can see you've fallen for Hope's story."
"I haven't fallen for anything. I'm far too cynical."
I sighed.
"But you're forgetting one thing," he said, taking my hand and placing it on his arm. "You can easily verify Hope's story."
"Very well. I'll write to Patience as soon as we get home and put your mind at ease."
"I hope you do."
We followed the path toward Park Lane. Matt seemed preoccupied with grim thoughts, and I couldn't blame him. To think that Sheriff Payne had tried to enlist a member of Matt's own family to betray him. To think that Hope had attempted to steal his watch! And then there was her attempt to trap him in the tree.
"Did you know those two ladies were Hope's witnesses?" I asked him. "Is that why you left the clearing?"
"I suspected, but that's not why. I didn't want to be beneath a tree alone with Hope." He pressed a hand to his heart in mock indignation. "I felt like she was taking advantage of my naivety."
"You're not the only one. I thought she had you fooled. When I saw those two biddies make a beeline for the tree, I expected them to catch Hope in your arms."
"Even if she'd thrown herself at me, I wouldn't have caught her."
Despite everything, I laughed.
We didn't hurry home, but took our time strolling through the park listening to conversations. Some were about Oscar's article in the Gazette, but not many. It seemed the initial excitement had faded. Neither of us spoke about it to the other, however. It was something of a sore point, and I, for one, didn't want to argue with Matt.
When we got home, I immediately dashed off a letter to Patience and had Peter send it. I was about to go in search of Miss Glass when Catherine Mason arrived, all aflutter. At first I thought her red face and nervous demeanor had something to do with Cyclops emerging from the library as soon as he heard her voice in the entrance hall, but I quickly realized she had something important to say. I led her into the library, a room Miss Glass rarely entered. She might know about magic, but I didn't think her mind was strong enough to endure another frank discussion about it.
Matt shut the door and invited Catherine to sit. Willie was once again out, and Duke was in the coach house showing the new coachman around. Cyclops took up a seat not too far from Catherine.
"Are you all right?" he asked her, frowning. "You look unwell."
She touched the back of her hand to her cheek. "I'm a little warm. The omnibus deposited me at Hyde Park Corner and I walked quickly from there."
"Can I get you tea?"
"No, thank you, Nate. That's very kind, but I'm all right. I wanted to see you. All of you," she quickly added, blushing. "I read the article in the Gazette."
Matt sat back and steepled his hands. "I think most of London has read the article."
"Have your parents?" I asked.
She nodded and winced. "We had rather a fierce discussion about it. And about you, India."
I'd expected Catherine to mention my magic to her parents, but I hoped the conversation would be civil. "Was it very bad?" I asked.
"A little. They both already knew, of course, so I didn't feel like I was betraying your confidence by mentioning that I knew too."
"They were angry that you knew?"
She sheepishly shrugged one shoulder.
"Angry with me," I said heavily. "They think I've drawn you into a dark and dangerous world by keeping you informed."
"Don't worry about them, India. They're just concerned for me. But a discussion followed about the future of our shop. They're not worried for themselves, you see, but for my brothers. They'll take over the shop one day, but if they lose business…well, it can hardly support one family now let alone two."
I didn't mention the notion of expanding their business, or setting up a factory to produce watches on a mass scale at a cheaper price. Catherine didn't have a good business head and I knew Mr. Mason liked keeping his shop small and offering personable service to his customers. It was also what his customers liked. But even without magic, a small business would lose against the factories and mass-produced watches and clocks eventually. It was the way of the world.
"Please reassure them that there are no known watchmaker magicians in the city except my grandfather and me," I said. "Neither of us intend to set up a shop again. We're not a threat to anyone's business. On second thoughts, don't mention Chronos. It would serve no purpose worrying them and the fewer people who know about him the better."
"I haven't as yet, but…you want me to continue to lie to my parents?"
"Only by omission." Now if only I could get my conscience to believe it was not quite lying. The look of disappointment Cyclops gave me was almost enough to convince me otherwise. "The important point is, we have no interest in running a shop or making timepieces."
"That's what I told them—about you, I mean." Catherine's hands clasped and unclasped in her lap. "My father put it differently, however. He said you don't want a shop now, but you will. He believes magicians are called to their magical craft. You will feel compelled to work with watches and clocks. India, is…is that true?"
"One can work with timepieces without selling them," Matt said.
"I tinker with them as a sort of hobby," I added. "Rather like painting or embroidery."
Her teeth nipped her lower lip. "I suppose. And if you say you are the only watch magician then perhaps we're worrying over nothing."
"I'm glad you agree. I don't want us to be at odds with one another, Catherine."
"We won't be. You're my closest friend." She lowered her face but she could not hide her blush. "Indeed, I hoped we could talk privately for a few minutes."
Matt and Cyclops both stood and bid her good day before exiting. Catherine pretended not to watch t
hem leave but did a terrible job. She couldn't take her gaze off Cyclops. He cast a winsome smile in her direction before closing the door.
"I think I know what this is about," I said.
She got to her feet and strode to the window. She stared at the street for a moment before striding back. Her cheeks still sported a flush but more from agitation than embarrassment. "I wrote to him asking him to meet me."
"Cyclops? And he refused?"
She nodded. "Why, India? What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing." I took her hand and bade her to sit next to me. "You need some patience with Cyclops—and a little persistence. You know why he has reservations, and they're nothing to do with you. He does like you. I can see it in the way he looks at you."
She sighed and slumped deeper into the sofa. "Here we are, two hopelessly romantic spinsters."
I laughed. "For one thing, you're not old enough to be called a spinster, and second, there is nothing hopeless about either of us. We're two fine women with independent thoughts."
"Independent thoughts are only of value when you can act on them. It's all well and good for you, India. You have means now, and gainful employment. I'm at my father's mercy until I marry then I'll be at my husband's."
"All the more reason to choose wisely. Thank God I never married Eddie. What a disaster that would have been."
"Of monumental proportions."
"I wonder if he would have gone through with the marriage. If my father hadn't died, or hadn't willed the shop to Eddie…would we be married now?" I pulled a face at the distasteful thought. For the hundredth time, I wondered how I could have been so blind to his true nature.
"He could certainly use a clever wife like you, one with knowledge of shop keeping in general and watches in particular. My father says Eddie is struggling to make ends meet. It's as if he lacks the will to make a real go of it."
"Lacks the will? But he went to so much trouble to get the shop. Why does your father think he hasn't the interest in it now?"
"He's late with orders, for one thing, and his repairs take far too long. He's often absent and since he employs no staff, the shop must close when he goes out. It's not every day but often enough that customers go elsewhere. It's all right for Mr. Abercrombie to leave; he has so many assistants that his absence isn't noticeable. But it's different for Eddie."
"Yes," I murmured. "It is. He's going to run that place into the ground and my grandmother's and father's efforts will be for nothing." My family's name may not be above the front door anymore, but our history existed in those walls, so to speak. If that shop no longer belonged to a watchmaker, another chapter of the Steele family would close.
"It was your grandfather's shop too," Catherine said. "He was excellent at his craft, by all accounts."
"I think my grandmother had more to do with its success." At her raised brows, I added, "I have reason to believe my grandfather was somewhat like Eddie—not as interested in keeping shop as a shopkeeper ought to be."
Catherine glanced at the clock on the mantel and gathered her reticule. "That's a story for another day. I have to get home or they'll grow suspicious."
I saw her out. She seemed disappointed that Cyclops wasn't hovering nearby to see her off. I found him with Matt and Duke in Matt's study after she left. It wasn't the best time to admonish him for his rejection of Catherine, however it was telling that he did not meet my gaze.
"You've told them what Hope said?" I asked Matt as I sat on the chair Duke vacated for me.
He picked up the letter laid out in front of him. "In detail."
"I knew she was a bad apple," Duke said with a shake of his head.
"She was desperate," Cyclops told him. "Desperate to secure her future. Sometimes people make bad choices when their future don't look too bright."
"You're defending her?" Duke grunted. "Willie would be on my side. Where is she, anyway?"
No one had an answer, and I wasn't sure Duke wanted to hear my suspicions. I was about to change the topic when Matt did it first.
He handed me the letter. "This is from my lawyer. He tracked down Miss Chilton. She's married and still lives in Islington but on a different street. Shall we visit today?"
"An excellent idea."
I looked in on Chronos before leaving. He still sported dark bruises and he sat gingerly in bed, but he had his wits about him and was in good spirits. Until Miss Glass arrived, that was. He groaned when she held up a deck of cards in one hand a book in the other.
"I can either read to you or play Old Maid," she said, sitting on the chair by the bed. "Which will it be?"
"Neither," he muttered.
"Don't be difficult. You must do something."
"Do you know any other card games?"
"Willemina has been teaching me poker."
He rubbed his hands together. "Right-oh. What'll the stakes be?"
Mrs. Randley, nee Chilton, lived with her husband in a modest house on a modest street in Islington. Mr. Randley worked for a bank in the city, and their two children were grown up and married. She was alone in the house when we called upon her in the late afternoon.
After telling her we worked for the police and were investigating Dr. Millroy's death, she readily agreed to talk to us once she got over her shock, expressed in the form of a small squeal.
"I am sorry for my outburst," she said as we sat in the parlor decorated with floral wallpaper, upholstery and curtains. Even her dress had flowers embroidered over the bodice. "But I'm so surprised that you're investigating it after all this time. I am pleased, however. Very pleased."
"You want to see justice served," Matt said with a friendly nod. "We understand. Dr. Millroy's death wasn't investigated thoroughly enough, and we want to right that wrong too."
"It may not end in a good result," I warned before she got her hopes up. "The guilty party may have also passed on and justice won't be served after all."
"It was an awfully long time ago." She peered at us over her spectacles with gray eyes that were both kind and quick. "The police made up their minds very early," she went on. "Do you mean to tell me it may not have been a thug from the slum after all?"
"We want to investigate all angles," Matt said. "It still seems likely it was someone from the area Dr. Millroy wandered into. Did you think it odd he was found in Whitechapel?"
"Lord, yes. Why would he want to go there? It didn't make sense."
"Could he have simply been lost?"
"A Londoner from birth? Unlikely."
"What about his mistress?" Matt asked bluntly.
Mrs. Randley pressed her lips together and fidgeted with her cuff.
"Mrs. Millroy told us about her," I said.
"She did?" She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Then I suppose it's all right if I tell you what I know, if it will help."
I gave her an encouraging smile. "Mrs. Millroy didn't know her name but suspected you might, since you met all his patients and maintained their records. Was the mistress one of his patients?"
She nodded. "You know she bore Dr. Millroy a child?"
"We do. What sort of woman was she? The sort that comes from Whitechapel?"
"Lord, no. She was a proper lady."
"Her name?" Matt prompted. "Do you remember it?"
She bit her lip.
"Please, Mrs. Randley, it's very important. It's likely she's linked to Dr. Millroy's death."
She acquiesced with a nod. "Very well. I'm not a tattler, mind, but you're right and it's necessary. Her name was Lady Buckland. She was a young widow who came to see him for a sore throat. After that, she made regular weekly appointments. It became…obvious what they were up to."
Matt looked to me but I shook my head. I didn't know the nobility, and Lady Buckland in particular, any more than he did.
"What about their son?" I asked. "What was his name?"
"I never did learn it," she said, somewhat dreamily. "He'd be twenty-seven now. Imagine that."
"My age," I said, for no part
icular reason.
"Where was she living at the time?" Matt asked.
"I can't recall, Mr. Glass. I am sorry."
"Do you still have the patient records?"
She laughed. "Of course not. They were destroyed soon after Dr. Millroy's death."
"Never mind." Matt's words sounded amiable enough, but I detected the tiredness behind them. He'd been hoping for an address that we could visit immediately. Now he had to task his lawyer with finding another address, and that meant waiting.
"We'll find them," I assured him.
"Not them," Mrs. Randley said. "Even if you find Lady Buckland alive and well, you'll not find her son with her. She gave him away."
I blinked at her even as my heart sank. "Before or after Dr. Millroy's death?"
"Before. You know how it is for a woman, Miss Steele. I suspect it's even more difficult for a lady of her standing to keep a baby she bore out of wedlock. She gave birth to him in secret, feigning illness, then gave the boy up. Dr. Millroy and I were the only ones who knew."
"Yes, of course." I nodded, somewhat numb. So even if we did find Lady Buckland, she would not know where to find her son. "She'll know which orphanage took him in," I said hopefully, once again for Matt's benefit. "They'll have records."
"Why would you want to find him?" Mrs. Randley gave me an arched look. "He can't help you discover the identity of Dr. Millroy's murderer."
"I…I…that is…" I couldn't think of an excuse quickly enough and ended up shrugging.
"There's another line of inquiry we want to follow," Matt chimed in before she grew suspicious. If he was disappointed that the son would be harder to find, he didn't show it. "What do you know about the experiment Dr. Millroy conducted just before his death?"
Mrs. Randley focused intently on him, as if she knew we had another motive for questioning her but couldn't quite put the pieces together yet. "What experiment?"
